Hanahaki Mine
by paintedmilk
Summary: When Judar's unrequited feelings for Sinbad cause him to contract a strange disease, he'll do everything in his power to deny how he feels, and hopefully the painful side effects as well. But with a heavy heart, sleepless nights, and constant chest pain, Judar thinks the heartache just might kill him—if the disease doesn't do it first. (SinJu, SinJa)


Teeth split open the flesh of the peach, sweet juices dribbling from pink lips as they were slurped up by a tongue. Peaches were a delicacy to Judar's tongue, detectable like no other flavor, his favorite thing to eat, hands down. Nothing else quelled his anger, satisfied his hunger, or silenced his frantic heart quite like a peach.

Relaxing up in the cherry blossom tree was one of his favorite pasttimes, watching pink petals drift through the air, passing him by to meet with the ground in a soft embrace. It seemed almost serene, and sometimes he considered joining them, teetering on the edge of the branch he was leaned against until he decided to detach and just fall to the ground himself, except not as slowly.

Nowhere near as slowly.

His life wasn't what he wanted it to be. Boring wasn't the right word to use; in all honesty, it was far from the truth. A free young man, crazed and powerful, was an apparent recipe for disaster—but Judar wasn't out here to police anyone, and he felt the same courtesy should be shown to him. Unfortunately not everyone else felt that way.

His mind wandered to Sinbad. That stupid, sexy king of Sindria seemed to be a constant visitor in the residency of his head, more than he'd like to admit. Like birds of a feather, several other images pushed their way into his thoughts as he wondered what Sinbad was up to, who he was with, and if he ever thought about him.

He wasn't sure why Sinbad was constantly on his mind lately, but it seemed to be becoming more of an inconvenience than anything.

Ever since he had been thinking about Sinbad more and more, his chest seemed to be aching every now and then. His insides had become knotted and twisted and it felt like the rukh was fluttering in his stomach, giddy and ticklish and fuzzy. He felt a bit sick, but also not; like cotton was obstructing his intestines and he felt like throwing it up, yet it was far from painful and he really didn't mind it.

' _Stupid king's probably lounging in bed with some dancer from last night…'_ he thought grumpily, face scrunching slightly in disgust. It was in the middle of the afternoon, and Sinbad had probably gotten up a while ago. Ja'far wouldn't have let him sleep in this late, definitely not. Judar was already cracking a smile at the thought of the snow-haired man's demonic aura at the sight of unfinished paperwork from days ago and a snoozing king, slacking off on it.

That was one thing Judar could admit about Ja'far. He at least knew how to entertain.

 _Jeez,_ Judar thought, _working for a guy like that must suck. I'd be so done with him…_

But in truth, Judar was jealous. His chest rumbled with pain as if in disapproval. Judar was never one to admit feelings or any of that sappy stuff, but that aching in his core was undeniable. To be at Sinbad's side was a desire of his. To be looked at with an expression of something other than disdain or disappointment or even disgust. To have Sinbad smile at him the way he smiled at his advisor. To be wrapped in his arms, or float with him in the air. To have him take the pain away and kiss it better, to feel the giddiness of being swept off his feet and the rush of plummeting to earth at the same time.

They were emotions even he didn't understand, and as cliché as it sounded, Sinbad had that effect on people. It was just the truth.

The tree branch was becoming uncomfortable, and Judar's body lifted from it, his eyes scanning the area as he thought of where to go next.

He wasn't feeling up to returning to the palace, but it was the most relatively interesting place he could go.

Sindria always seemed to have somewhere interesting to go, something to do, something to see. Whether it was sampling the liveliness of the marketplace or the flourish of sweetness that only Sindria fruit seemed to manifest, it had to be better than this dull place. Of course having servants at his beck and call was a saving grace for his laziness (and lack of knowledge on how to do almost anything for himself), and being revered and known wherever he went in the empire was fun. Almost no one refused him what he wanted. He lived a lifestyle many dreamed about, and he could flaunt it all he wanted.

As he began making his way through the air towards the palace, his mind wandered to the Kou siblings.

Bothering Kouen from time to time had its humorous moments, but he barely got a reaction out of the stoic prince more often than not and that was kinda the point.

He didn't interact with Koumei too much—he hardly ever exited his room and there wasn't much Judar could think to say to the redhead that didn't involve his trademark disheveled appearance.

Kouha was the most eccentric out of all four of them, and the one Judar could relate to the most; Kouha had the most fun and pushed people around the same way Judar tended to do. He had his own bouts of insanity, especially when he was in the heat of battle. But he was also childish, and a brat dealing with another brat was a recipe for disaster.

Kougyoku was the most motherly, and her given nickname of 'old hag' actually held more kindness behind it than she knew. He really did care for her, as she did for him, and teasing her was all a part of friendly banter. Sometimes the two of them would even talk about Sinbad.

Sinbad…

Ow. There was that ache again.

What the hell was up with him? Just thinking of Sinbad was enough to make him feel pain? That wasn't normal. That couldn't be a normal thing. Whatever, he just had to stop thinking. Sinbad was on his mind too much anyway.

But the more he wandered, feet padding on soft red carpeting and passing through large rooms of varying shades of red with servants and soldiers on the go, the more his mind tried to go back to Sinbad.

And he wasn't really trying to resist. Even as a dull throbbing crept its way into his ribcage, Sinbad would not leave his head.

"You look lost in thought," came a voice that shook Judar from his thoughts.

His eyes met the form of Kouha, standing with a hand on his hip and a curious expression on his face.

"I'm not," Judar responded.

Kouha only smirked. "Sure, whatever. What are you even thinking about? You look like you lost your best friend or realized you'll end up bitter and alone. And you certainly don't have a best friend."

Judar scowled. "Too bad I'm not bitter and alone like you."

"Hey, I'm not bitter, or alone! My girls keep me plenty company. But really, did a pet die or something?"

Red eyes rolled before bare feet began to pad against the floor to leave the room. "I don't have any pets, dumbass."

Kouha didn't follow him, which Judar was secretly pleased by. He didn't want to talk about what was on his mind. He wanted to keep it to himself. Kouha would probably only laugh or tell him to get a woman or something like that, as if that would make him feel any better. He didn't want to talk about his thoughts to anyone, really. They wouldn't understand. Missing Sinbad? Ridiculous.

He didn't have anyone to confide in like Sinbad did. He had eight generals by his side, most importantly Ja'far. The two were near inseparable, it must've been nice to always have someone to listen to you like that. It probably beat lying awake on your own with a vortex of thoughts. Talking to yourself only got so far.

He kept walking until he reached his room, shoving the door open and shutting it with just as much force. His curtained canopy bed beckoned him to rest atop the Egyptian cotton, and he did so. His pale skin was a striking contrast to the midnight sheets. His head lolled to the side, briefly glancing at the small, empty bottle containers on the bedside table. Sleep medication. As much as the magi loved to sleep, he had a hard time doing so occasionally. It was Kougyoku who first noticed how tired he was, doting on him like she did, fetching him a glass of warm milk or a plate of mashed peaches in hopes that they would ease his body into a comfortable sleep.

The first time she checked on him, he appeared asleep, and she was satisfied.

The second time she checked on him, he was leaning out the window, sick of being sleepless.

He turned his back to the bottles, remembering how the very next day she demanded that Kouen have Judar taken to a magician or a doctor or someone who could get him to go to sleep.

Even as he shut his eyes to rest, his chest still throbbed with a bothersome pain. He felt a cough rising in his throat, and when the air was forced out, he felt a feather light touch on the back of his hand. Opening his eyes, he saw what looked like…a petal?

A black petal was resting on his hand.

Did…he just cough that up?

' _What the hell?'_ he thought, blinking. That was fucking weird. But then again, maybe it was some side effect of sleeplessness. He didn't fucking know. Was he coughing up petals now?

His eyes slipped closed once more. He wasn't awake enough to care.


End file.
